


Down The Gun Barrel

by Thank_You_Kindly



Category: John Wick (Movies), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Character Study, Post-John Wick: Chapter 2 (2017), Seems I only ever write strange conversations, just two dudes bonding over a dog, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thank_You_Kindly/pseuds/Thank_You_Kindly
Summary: John finds himself catching a breath down an alley after fleeing the continental,but he's got some company.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Down The Gun Barrel

It’s a matter of minutes that brings the structure of his life down around him. A handful of ill conceived choices on the back of a truly hellish year. He’d crashed back into his old life like he’d never been away, and kept crashing until he fell out the other side. The rules were different now; there were no safe spaces, or caches or allies. By all rights he should have been dead already. He hadn’t decided if he was glad about that yet or not. A gift, borne of respect of an old friend and John couldn’t make himself be grateful. Not yet, maybe not ever. And yet it wasn’t in him to lay down and die. You don’t get the reputation of being the monster under the bed for assassins for nothing. 

It’s not long after he walked out of the hotel for the first time, old colleagues nipping at his heels that John Wick finds himself backed down an alley; dog at his heels and an empty gun in his hand. He’s not truly desperate, not yet, but he has to admit to himself that things don’t look good. He’s catching his bearings and his breath as his dog snuffles down the alley, calm despite the metaphorical storm they find themselves in. John’s expecting her to come away with leftovers, maybe a rat, so he’s surprised when he hears her tail wagging accomanied but a dry gravel of a voice from the dark.

‘Nice dog.’

John’s gun is up and trained on the source in a heartbeat, maybe less.

‘Hmph… shame about the owner’

The gun doesn’t drop and he hears a the tell tale click of a safety. 

‘…can’t say I’d disagree. You out here with the rest of them?’

There’s a pregnant pause as John waits for an answer. He’s killed to stay alive and he’ll do it again, but he’s not one to take life lightly. If it had been a fellow assassin in the shadows they wouldn’t have announced themselves to compliment his dog.

‘I’m not exactly a team player. But I have been wondering what all the fuss has been about the last coupl’a days…. Any idea what that might be?’

Again John considers his answer, someone associated with the hotel even marginally must know what happened in the last few days. Anyone with an inkling of the workings of the underworld should know who he is. The fact that this man clearly doesn’t must mean he’s new, very new, and yet the confidence and calm that rumbles through his voice would suggest the opposite.

‘I may have made some less than honest people very upset of late.’

The man laughs at that, a rasping guffaw that echoes in the small space. ‘Upset huh? Whaddy’a have to do to warrant shoot ups and car chases that no-one seems to wanna investigate. Hell even the reporters have been quiet about it.’

The final comment comes out coloured by disbelief, maybe even a little relief. John doesn’t have enough to parse out what that means, so instead he focuses back on his gun and how he’s going to get out of this fight with no bullets.

‘Killed some people that carried a lot of weight.’ Killed a friend, killed a traitor. They don’t feel as separate as they should.

The man is silent again, it itches under his skin that he still can’t see him down the alley. He’s caught a flash of light off a very large gun barrel but he can’t pick out the man. He doesn’t like not knowing who he’s dealing with.

‘S’that what you do then? Take out mob bosses? Shoot up strip clubs?’

‘…Used to be, if someone paid enough. I retired.’

The man huffs a laugh again, more subdued than the last. ‘Doesn’t look like it took does it?’

John can’t help but smile at that, the barest twitch at the corners of his mouth. No, it didn’t take. He hardly feels like he’s been away.

They stand in silence, Johns dog sat between them until the man speaks again. ‘So, am I right in thinking that the only people you’ll be putting down in the future are murdering shit stains? If not, we’re gonna have a problem.’

The friendly tone plummets as he talks, a hard edge lining the end of his sentence. 

‘Like I said, I’m retired. I’d like to stay that way.’ 

A heaving sigh comes out of the alley and John hears heavy boots hit the ground as the man climbs down from whatever perch he’d taken position on. He can see him more clearly now. Tall and broad shouldered with what looks like a skull painted across his chest and catching the light. 

He tosses something over and instinct has John catching it in a firm grip. He’s ready to throw it right back but is shocked to stillness as he sees a magazine in his hand. Heavy with bullets for his empty gun.

‘Stop waving that glorified paperweight in my face. If you’re gonna point a gun at me at least have something in it to shoot with.’

John’s confused but he wastes no time in reloading. Strangely acquired bullets are still better than none. 

‘John Wick’, he’s not sure why he says it, it might change the mans mind about whether or not to shoot him. But it feels dishonest somehow, to lie in this strange haven he’s found.

The man looks up as he speaks, and it’s clear that he’s heard the name even if he doesn’t know the full story behind it. ‘Frank Castle’.

Suddenly John feels on much firmer footing, he’s heard that name too. Although he hasn’t had the time or presence of mind to keep up with current events he has heard of the Punisher, of some of the things he’s done. 

‘Why the gift?’

Frank locks eyes with him, it’s a heavy gaze but John has stared down far more volatile individuals.

‘I ain’t a fan of the kind of people following you around the city. I figure if you take some of them out for me it’s saves me the trouble. You die it ain’t no skin off my back. You live, I never see you again. Seems like a good investment.’

It’s clear that had they met in different circumstances shots would be fired, but in this quiet space between them John is grateful for the peace. He’s tired of gunfights for the sake of them.

John’s lips twist in a sad parody of a smile, ‘Well I won’t argue with that.’ He calls his dog and set out towards the mouth of the alley. ‘Happy hunting Frank’.

Another huffed laugh follows him on to the street. ‘Yeah you too.’

He’s still in trouble, still afloat in a world that he’s turned his back on. But he has a calm mind and a full gun at his hip, no small things in the right hands. And as short as the interaction had been, it reminds him that the underbelly of the world he finds himself in is not the only one out there. John Wick knew peace once. While happiness may be beyond him forever there is still a chance that he might find peace again. A chance that he might live out what his wife wanted for him. So John calls his dog to heel and strides out into the night, aching muscles ignored as determination rolls over him body and mind. He’s down but not out; no-one becomes the bogeyman for assassins without earning the title.


End file.
